


Family

by Onity



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Includes an alternate ending, Mental Instability, Old god corruption, Sibling Bonding, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24604234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onity/pseuds/Onity
Summary: It is the night of Winter Veil, and it seems that everyone on Azeroth has a family or friend to celebrate with. Everyone, that is, except Anduin Wrynn.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

-...-

It was the night of Winter Veil. 

It was the time to be alive, really. To celebrate family and friends and love. To celebrate company, to celebrate the year’s bounty, and to feast on a wonderful dinner. To enjoy the warmth inside while snow covered the streets, forests, and mountains. To partake in games, to tell stories, to enjoy the warmth of the fireplace. It was a night that would end with the comfort of sleep unlike any other. A time to forget your fears, to forget the world around you, and to focus on the now. To focus on what really mattered.

The Greymanes this year would invite the Crowleys for a night of drinks and large hunted roasted boar, in a cozy cabin away from busy city life, closer to the wild forests near a home they both dearly missed. 

Jaina Proudmoore, for the first time in forever, spent the night along with her mother and brothers back in her home. They celebrated reunion, they celebrated the safety of their nation. They celebrated Tandrid’s return from the sea, as well as Derek’s escape from the hands of the Banshee Queen. They celebrated, continuing to mend the bonds of a once broken family. 

In the same city, Taelia Fordragon drank and sung the night away alongside Cyrus, celebrating the port’s expansion, and the many adventures of the past few months. 

Tyrande Whisperwind spent the night raising her people’s spirits, holding a celebration in part of Stormwind to both honor those they’ve lost and the future they will build despite the ashes.

The gnomes celebrated in Ironforge with their dwarven brothers, alongside the new king of Mechagon, taking the time to celebrate their newfound friends. 

Mathias Shaw took a well earned vacation, spending time with a new friend of his, Flynn Fairwind, relaxing from the stresses of life and exploring a newfound relationship.

The Horde this year has gone all out, hoping to overshadow it’s dark past with a hopeful push towards the bright future. A party for the entire new council, hosted in Orgrimmar, to strengthen bonds between allies old and new. 

Even Wrathion had someone to celebrate with, spending time in the Chamber of Heart alongside Magni Bronzebeard and M.O.T.H.E.R. They celebrated their current progress against N’zoth, and for the survival of Azeroth against her many foes. 

Anduin Llane Wrynn, the King of Stormwind, and High King of the Alliance, beloved by all, and considered the adopted family of many, was alone. 

With a jolt, the young 19 year old king awoke from his short slumber. In doing so, an empty bottle of imported wine was knocked from the desk, falling to the floor, clattering against what appeared to be several more bottles. The light from the dimly lit fireplace flickered, as if it too reacted to the loud sound just as the king did. The king yawned, stretching out his arms, allowing himself consciousness again. 

Anduin paused, taking in his surroundings, to try to remember everything. Before him, drowned in drool, was a stack of paperwork he’d used as a pillow. Ink was smudged, and whatever it was it would need to be rewritten. Anduin gently pushed aside the stack of paper, before halting all together to suffer the spike of a migraine. 

He groaned, grasping his head, recoiling into the back of his office chair. He braced the pain, slowly beginning to search through the drawers of his desk for a medicine that would numb it. Each move he made, the longer it took for him to search, the harder the thumping of his brain hit. 

And then, just as he’d grabbed the bottle of pills, everything went away. 

He held the bottle tightly, waiting for the spike to come back, but nothing happened. He placed the bottle to the side of the desk, where the wine had been, and slid the drawers closed. 

Letting out a deep breath, Anduin laid his head down against his arms on the desk, looking out hazily to the dying fire. The room seemed to grow colder and smaller by the second, and yet Anduin could not motivate himself enough to get up and fan the flames. 

How odd, he thought, the darkness of the room for such a night. A night in which even the moon outside was as bright as the sun. Was this how the king of Stormwind celebrated Winter Veil? Alone, drinking himself to sleep again and again, continuing to forget what or who he was with each waking? Doing so, despite the distant colorful lights that shined upon the houses of Stormwind, despite the fact that much of the world was still partying? 

How? How did this night become so lonely, Anduin pondered. He had many friends, was loved by many, and considered family to many. How did the keep end up so empty? Especially considering that each and every year before this the keep was the center of celebration in Stormwind. What changed? 

A dark thought entered his mind, a voice that sounded like nothing Anduin could produce. 

‘They don’t care’

It was so startling to him, and along with it a growing feeling of observation made his hair stand on edge. Anduin eyed the shadows of the room, feeling a burning stare carve into his soul. He saw nothing, turning to look behind himself to see nothing but the wall, and the large portrait of his father. 

Varian Wrynn. 

Anduin stared at the painting for far too long, a weight forming in his chest. There were so many words, so many things he wished he could say. But he was alone. 

His family was dead. 

He hissed as his headache suddenly returned, far more violent than before, and he turned around to quickly down the pills dry. He could hardly do it, beginning to choke, reaching down mindlessly to the bottles of the floor, hoping that one would still have something left inside. He found one, a bottle from Teldrassil, and downed what he could ot make the pills go down. 

As his mind rattled, the king found himself beginning to slip into dark thoughts, of which echoed in the same way the strange voice did.

He was alone, because he had no more family, because despite being the pseudo-son of many, not a single one actually saw him as their own. Not a single one thought of him this night. 

Tears bubbled up from the inside, falling down his cheeks as he tried to rub them away. 

How had he never noticed, he thought as the tears hit the desk below. Ever since his father died, he’s been abandoned by everyone. One by one, for reasons entirely stupid, each and every person Anduin relied upon left him. They all left him, in his hour of need, for what? 

Anduin dropped his head against the desk, the pain nothing but another form of torment he ignored in favor for his thoughts. 

Genn Greymane had basically adopted him since Varian died, taking Anduin under his wing, helping the new king find his place under the crown. While Genn could get annoying at times, and be very traditional in his ways, there wasn’t a moment Anduin didn’t appreciate the man’s help. They’d grown close, and a moment or two, Anduin swore, he’d heard Genn slip up and call him Liam. 

So why didn’t Genn invite him? Why didn’t Genn even ask Anduin what he’d planned for the holiday? 

What of Jaina Proudmoore? What of his “auntie”? Despite their many falling outs, the two had always considered each other family. Jaina called him her nephew since he was born! And in truth, Jaina once considered Anduin to be the son she’d never have. Despite abandoning him during the Legion invasion, they’d mended their relationship after the war.

But then she abandoned him again. 

The voice growled in his head. 

‘She was willing to die in Kul Tiras at the hands of her own mother, and for what?’ it asked. ‘As if she left she had no family left to live for.’

It had been something he’d read in a report, that bothered him, but he’d locked the thoughts away before he could dwell on it too much. But now? All he could wonder is why Jaina had accepted her death sentence on Kul Tiras, not once considering that she would leave Anduin, her “nephew”, alone in a time when he needed her most of all. 

Again. 

He wondered why, as he cried, his sobs muffled by the walls, not even Velen seemed curious of his whereabouts. A man he considered a grandfather in many ways. He wondered if Baine thought of him, yet the memory of his horn struck pain in his heart, as it was hard to tell if Baine even cared anymore. Wrathion was back, but he was a piece of shit, and not once seemed to want to rekindle the friendship they once had. 

‘Did anyone really truly care about you?’ The voice growled, causing Anduin to shake in despair. ‘Ever?’

Anduin hated to wonder this, and he tried so hard to push the thoughts out of his head, to banish whatever seemed to speak inside of his mind. 

‘It seems to me,’ the voice retaliated, ‘that they only cared for you because of him’

Anduin knew exactly what the voice was saying, and it hurt him to wonder about it too. Ever since his father died, their care in his well being faded. Had they only cared for him because of their friendship with his father? And now that his father was gone, there would be no repercussions in abandoning his son. Did they only keep the facade alive purely in his father’s memory? 

Despite how absurd it sounded to anyone sane, Anduin was not sane. Not now. Not with the whispers of an old god fueling his fears. 

‘What is the point?’ the voice pushed, his headache pounding, causing him to cry out. ‘What is the point when nobody cares?’

It almost felt as if tenderals had hold of his heart, and any positive thought, and hope for a bright future, was lost between the clouds of violet behind his eyes. 

What WAS the point, when no one cared? What was the point when everything hurt? When there was no reason to hope, for there was nothing but war, and there would never be anything BUT war. 

Anduin felt as though he couldn’t breathe, as if someone was gripping his lungs, forcing the air out. He stood from his chair to cough violently against the desk. Unnoticed to him, droplets of blood fell onto the wood. 

As the king began to walk around his desk, nearly tripping upon the sea of bottles, Anduin felt as if someone else controlled him. As if arms guided him along. Had he been more sane, more sober, he would have realized the likelihood that he was, but the heartache within made it near impossible to even remember the threat of an old god being very real. 

He stood before the doors to the balcony, peeking through the thin white curtains into the moonlight sky. Shuddering, he blinked away tears and unlocked he doors, pulling them open along with a gush of cold winter air. The air pooled into the small office, pushing against the bottles, killing the fire and it’s only source of internal light. 

Anduin stepped through the doorway, onto the marble balcony, gazing out onto his city. Below him, by several stories, was the entrance to the keep. Before him, the statue of his father. 

He missed his father dearly. 

Every moment since his death has gotten worse, and despite attempts to, Anduin never felt like he got to properly mourn. Anduin, despite losing so many people throughout his life, never felt he knew how to mourn. Not someone like his father. He let tears fall as he remembered all the times his father cared for him, and how he’d taken them for granted. 

He placed his hands against the cold railings, letting the frost freeze his fingers, letting it consume him despite the pain. 

He missed being missed.

He missed being part of a family, no matter how small it was. 

Nothing about the distant lights calmed him, not the distant sounds of the sea, not the smell of the ocean. All he could focus on was the cold stone back of his father’s statue. 

He reached his arm out, wanting so desperately to touch the statue, as if it would bring him warmth. Bring him love. 

The world seemed to still around him, and the voice inside his head edged him onward. 

‘I know of a place where you can see him again.’ It spoke. 

Anduin’s mouth opened slightly, breathing in the cold air, tears blurring his vision, as he thought of home. 

Home was where his heart was, and his heart was not here. 

Leaning against the railing, he continued to gaze into the stone, silently crying for his father. 

He knew how he could see him again. 

Anduin struggled slightly, but climbed onto the railing, standing on the frosted marble as if there was no other option. 

He didn’t know what the afterlife was like, he’d only heard stories, but he liked to think that everyone were together, happy, enjoying what could only be described as heaven. 

His family waited for him in the afterlife, and who was he to make them wait any longer? Who was he to nearly miss the holidays with his own family? 

Slowly, he looked down from the statue to the cobblestone stairs far below him. Two guards stood at their stations before the entrance of the keep, unknown to them the events taking place stories above their heads. 

Anduin closed his darkened orange eyes, breathing in and out, calming his mind with the knowledge that his father was only one step away. 

He let one foot slip forward, carefully, hovering above the empty air. It wasn’t in hesitation, but a pause. A thought appeared, one not of sorrow or of longing. One much darker then what his heart was capable of making. A sadistic hope. 

He hoped that those who forgot him, abandoned him, suffered. That upon his death, their souls would be corrupt with guilt. That they knew it was their fault. 

He opened his eyes to the sky, the deep orange surrounded by dark purple shadows. He leaned forward, holding his arms outwards, to welcome what would come, as his feet slipped forward off the edge of the railing. 

But the winds did not rush past him towards the ground, a desperate tug on the back of his shirt keeping him standing upon the railing. 

It took him more than a moment to realize, and slowly he stepped back, turning to see who stopped him from his mission. 

He saw, holding onto him with shaking arms, Valeera Sanquinar. His eyes locked with hers, and she watched as the abnormal colors vanished behind his sight. He watched as shock turned to tears, the young elf falling apart. 

He stepped off the railing, being pulled into her arms as cries from both sides filled the air. She gripped him tightly, as if he would vanish at any moment. Through her muffled cries, she asked him why. 

Whatever had been driving his thought process before was gone, and Anduin could not come up with anything to explain himself. He dug his head into her shoulder, trying to ask himself why, and only coming up with one conclusion. 

“I-” His voice felt broken. “-forgot about you.”

Valeera slowly pulled back from him, grabbing a hold of his face, looking into his dull blue eyes, reading nothing but depression from them. 

“Funny.” She replied, her vision blurred. “I’d almost forgotten you too.”

She pulled him into another hug, clinging to him, as he wrapped his arms around her too. 

How he’d forgotten the very woman he considered his older sister, in a time when all he craved was family, he didn’t know, but there was something oddly comforting in the fact that the same thoughts plagued her mind as they his. 

They sat on the marble balcony for what felt like an hour, their tears calming as they enjoyed the company of the other. Eventually, Valeera leaned away from him, only to fall back into her thoughts. Anduin held her hand, gently, enough to pull her back. 

She looked up at him, taking in the fact that he was still alive, and that she was not alone. 

“Please,” She whispered, her energy drained from the fear. “Don’t leave me. You’re all I have left.”

Anduin hesitated to promise, afraid of what his mind could do when manipulated, afraid of falling to the darkness again. But he knew, beyond this night, that he had others to fall back on, to aid him, to protect him. Valeera had no one else but him. 

She was his family, family that he’d abandoned, and it hurt to realize that. 

He embraced her again, afraid to get up again and face the world around him. 

“We’ll get through this.” He assured her. “Together.” 

-...-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another perspective, plus an alternate ending.

-....-

The Eve of Winter Veil…

-...-

Kul Tiras sat lovingly under the bright full moon, her streets alive with celebration during a time when most would otherwise be asleep. Colorful string lights sparkled into the sky from each and every street below. The sounds of laughter and singing and glee could be heard no matter where you were in the city. 

While this holiday is usually paired with the tradition of holding a party within the city’s castle, this year was different. This year, for the first time, the Proudmoores celebrated together, as a family reunited. The keep was empty, save for a few guards, and the Proudmoores. Dim lights overpowered by the crazy amount of winter veil decorations made the place feel warm and cozy. 

Jaina couldn’t remember the last time she felt these feelings, but everything felt right. Being home, being loved by her mother again, and being a sister again. Though Calia Menethil was invited, she instead insisted on spending time visiting Lorderan while it seemed the blight was disappearing and no one lived inside. 

It all almost felt like a dream, like she was living a distant memory, but no. It was all real.

She sat at the dining room table, alongside her mother Katherine, and her brothers Tandrid and Derek. The table was piled high with food, far too much for the four of them to eat. Jaina herself had eyes too big for her stomach, and much was left on her plate. Katherine seemed in the same boat, however Tandrid was on his third or fourth plate, with no signs of stopping. Derek, cursed by undeath, did not feel the need to eat, however entertained himself with a drink Calia recommended. 

Somewhere in the feast, Jaina had lost her train of thought. Upon ending a conversation with Tandrid, Katherine turned her attention to her daughter, taking notice of an odd expression. 

“Jaina?” She asked, gaining her attention. 

“Yes, mother?” Jaina snapped out of deep thought, looking up to her mother. 

“Is something on your mind?” Katherine asked. 

Jaina paused, unsure of how to answer. After gaining the gazes of her brothers, she opened up.

“I was just thinking about family.” She said. “You know how close I am with King Wrynn.”

“Ah,” Kathrine smiled. “I believed you’d once addressed him as your nephew?”

Katherine had only met Anduin Wrynn one or twice, though knew that with Kul Tiras joining the Alliance, she would be seeing much more of him. Anduin wasn’t exactly what she imagined the Alliance king to be, but that was likely because she hadn’t known of Varian’s death until the Alliance arrived at her harbor. All of the stories she’d heard about the Alliance kings were of a warrior king. 

“Yes.” Jaina nodded. “I was close friends with his parents, they always felt like family to me.”

“You should invite him to join us next year.” Katherine said.

“I would love to.” She then faintly laughed. “I know he would do well with new family. Wrynns are very family oriented.” 

“So if he calls you his aunt, does that mean I’ll be his uncle?” Tandrid smirked.

“I suppose.” Jaina nodded, imagining a future in which Anduin becomes close with her brothers. 

“Uncle Tandrid,” Tandrid spoke loudly, as if practicing the title. “And, uncle Derek?”

Derek seemed sheepish, unsure of how to think of Anduin. “I’ve not even met him.”

Jaina could sense worry in Derek. Though his mother and siblings have accepted him in his undeath, his nation did not know, and for good reason. Humans had a history of fearing the undead, and it made perfect sense. Derek still was not comfortable seeing himself in the mists of rotting, for what will likely feel like forever. How would a light worshipping human priest think of him?

“Derek,” Jaina reached out to place her hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ve never met anyone more accepting than Anduin Wrynn.”

“Rumor has it his best friends are a tauren and a black dragon.” Katherine spoke as if she didn’t believe it, but enjoyed the irony in the idea. 

Jaina picked up on her mother’s disbelief, finding it funny. “I assure you that no war could deter Anduin from enjoying Baine’s company, however last I heard he’d decked the dragon in the face, so I will need to get back to you on that.” 

Katherine seemed to laugh at the playing along, meanwhile Derek leaned in slightly. 

He whispered, hoping not to gain his mother’s attention. “Baine?”

Jaina nodded her head. “See, you and Anduin have a mutual friend.”

Derek Proudmoore much appreciated Baine’s help in escaping from the Banshee Queen’s grasps, and in their long boat ride to Theramore, the two had sparked something of a friendship. Derek never thought he’d be able to see Baine again, but with the war ending, and with the High King’s stance of peace, it was possible. Besides, something was comforting that he enjoyed the same company as the king. 

Derek thought about it slightly, making a face, however seemed to be content with that. He did, however, have further questions. 

“A black dragon?”

Jaina chuckled. “It is a long story, best suited for another time.”

“I look forward to the gossip.” Derek nodded his head and leaned back into his seat. 

Jaina continued addressing her mother, who calmed from her laughing fit. “You know, I’m sure Anduin could always use the wisdom of a grandmother.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m not that old am I?” Katherine replied. 

“I don’t know what else he would call you.” Jaina shrugged.

“I had assumed that Genn’s wife had claimed that title already.” Katherine pondered. “She does live in Stormwind Keep, does she not?”

“Yes, ever since Teldrassil burned, though I believe most of Mia’s time is spent caring for the refugees.” Jaina frowned. She was sure, though, that Mia wouldn’t pass up the chance to help Genn in their “raising” of Anduin into adulthood. Mia most likely played good cop if Genn ever acted up, the traditional man he is. 

Their conversations continued into a range of topics, soon to be interrupted by the end of their feast. The night went on with drinking and games and relaxing by the fire. As things seemed to die down, Jaina found herself alone with her mother. 

“I was thinking....” Katherine spoke up from the comfortable silence between them. “About earlier. The title, Grandmother.”

Jaina rolled her eyes. “I’ve not having children. I decided a long time ago.”

Katherine nodded, “It is not my choice, I was just curious.” 

She paused, frowning. “Not long ago, I had no one.”

Jaina shifted in her chair, sitting up.

“I had lost you. Dealin and Derek were dead. Tandrid was lost to the sea, never to return.” She hesitated. “I’d accepted that Kul Tiras’ future did not continue alongside the Proudmoore family.” 

Jaina too couldn’t help but think of how she used to view her own family. It was torn apart, and she never thought that it would change. She’d gone to Kul Tiras to seek aid for the Alliance in this war, but deep down she knew what response she would get. It had not surprised her. 

It felt hard to be surprised these days, with all that had happened to her. All of the bad luck, all of the death, betrayal. 

“I….I did want kids….” Jaina never got to talk about her past, but she felt like she could now. “But Arthas wasn’t ready.” 

Katherine listened without interference. 

“He didn’t feel ready, and I don’t blame him.” Jaina sighed. “In truth, I don’t think Arthas really wanted to be a father, but he knew that it was part of the expectations of a monarch. The world was too dangerous for a child, and he didn’t want to never be home, fighting wars instead of enjoying family.” 

Jaina looked down to her feet, remembering the man she once loved, and how he was lost. 

“Dreamed of raising a son, not a prince.” Katherine asked, surprising Jaina by her understanding. 

“Every royal family fears the same thing, my dear.” 

Jaina wondered if Varian ever fought with the same problems. Anduin was always attracted to danger, and it more than once gave Varian a heart attack. Jaina wondered if Varian had ever thought of giving it all up for him. Laying down the crown to live with his son in neutrality. 

“I’d never felt the same way with anyone else.” Jaina continued. “Though I loved Kalec, I….it was not the same.”

Jaina had a spark once with the blue dragon, but with the bombing of Theramore, and with their cultural and racial differences, there was a disconnect that prevented them from growing closer. 

“Maybe you should look away from men.” Katherine suggested. “They can be quite difficult.”

Jaina laughed, however could not be dragged from the thought of her past. What would life had been like if Arthas was ready? If they’d had kids. If she had been a mother?

Jaina smiled faintly. “Anduin has always been the closest thing to a son for me.” 

It was a strange feeling, to think of someone else’s child as your own, but Jaina was far too guilty of it. She’d never told anyone of it, though. She’d felt it more when Anduin was younger. He had such beautiful blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a pure heart. He was like the son she and Arthas never had. As Anduin grew, he expressed ideas of peace, things that Jaina had been preaching about for ages. She’d never felt so proud of him. 

But, things have changed, she continued to delve into her thoughts. She and Anduin were no longer on the same page. Jaina had lost so much to the Horde, to Garrosh and Sylvanas, and it felt hard to believe in peace. She admired Anduin’s ability to hold hope in even the darkest times, but sometimes it felt like he was far too stubborn for his own good. 

She thought back, to Varian’s death, and how she’d left Anduin in his hour of need. She still believed the Horde to be partly responsible for Varian’s death, but in a more stable mindset, it was easy to see why Anduin could not accept it. She didn’t blame him at all. She’d returned, after the war with the Legion, seeking to rekindle what she broke.

Their relationship was not the same, but he still called her “auntie”, and Jaina held onto that dearly. 

“What IS the young king doing for the holidays?” Katherine asked. 

“He usually spends the holidays hosting a celebration in Stormwind alongside the Greymanes.” 

“Tell me, how do Stormwindians celebrations differ from that of Kul Tiras?”

-...-

The feast, to be honest, was slightly awkward, however Wrathion had begun to stop caring how others saw him since his departure from Pandaria so long ago. Begun. There were still things he’d wish people didn’t think, and he hoped to work on fixing. 

Magni and M.O.T.H.E.R., However, were quite pleasant company for two beings who could not feast alongside him. While they celebrated within the Chamber of Heart, Wrathion chowed down upon a dinner made only for him, full of meats mainly, but food fit for a king. In the meantime, Magni sat and watched as if he were a father taking pride in his skinny child eating more. He and Mother spoke, as much as Mother would partake, and Wrathion would join in every now and then. 

As Wrathion sat among empty plates, cleaning his beard, Magni spoke up.

“So!” He smirked. “What do ye plan to do once N’zoths defeated!”

Wrathion admired his positive energy, wanting to comment on how he’d prefer focusing on the current problems then that of the future. Being distracted from N’zoth could be faitle. However, Wrathion did have ideas, and did not want to dull the conversation with people who might be considered friends. 

“Should I be given the chance,” He leaned back. “There are still mistakes I have yet addressed. A friendship I wish to rekindle.”

“A friendship, huh?”

Wrathion frowned, “Though I doubt how successful any attempt I make would be. If Pandaria taught him anything, it’s that he places his trust in people far too easily.”

“Ya talkin’ about Anduin, aren't ya?” Magni asked. “You’d be surprised by that kid.” 

Wrathion looked confused. “You were there when he punched me, weren’t you?”

Magni laughed. “The kid’s got a heart of gold. N’zoth is taking his toll on everyone.”

“I-” Wrathion couldn’t believe it. “N’zoth’s main weapon is amplifying the thoughts of people to a level beyond concerning. He doesn’t form these desires from nowhere. I highly doubt Anduin hasn’t dreamed of decking me since...since long before N’zoth had a hand in it.” 

“What you do to ‘im, then? I can’t imagine him letting you into Stormwind if you really killed his father.” Magni prodded. 

“My...part in that event is distant, but it exists, I do not deny it.” Wrathion frowned, having long regretted the outcome of his plans back in Pandaria. “The last time I saw him, I.. knocked him out.”

Magni burst into laughter. 

“Ya fool!” He pointed to Wrathion. “He decked ya because ya decked him! It’s only fair!”

Wrathion didn’t think of the event like that, but he was grateful for Magni’s positive attitude towards the whole thing. 

“The last time I saw that boy, I turned ta diamond tryin’ ta talk ta Azeroth! I can’t imagine how traumatizing that must have been to the lil thing.” As his laughter died down, Magni carried the conversation onwards. “‘Bout twelve years ol’, I think. Called me Uncle Magni!”

“How awful.” 

Magni shook his head. “Varian sent ‘im over thinkin’ we could toughen him up, make ‘im a warrior. Kid was more interested in our literature than our hammers!” 

“I can’t imagine him not being interested in the forge.”

“You might like it, it’s quite warm in there.” Magni replied. 

Wrathion hesitated, “Are..you inviting me to Ironforge?” 

“Take ya’ for a visit once this old god problems dealt with!”

Wrathion smiled at the thought, low key curious how that would fly with the current dwarven leadership, or with the Alliance leadership. 

“I may consider, as long as you don’t cover me in plate and chains.” He joked. 

-...-

Baine raised his drink.

“To a bright future!” He cheered. 

“For the Horde!”

The war council joined in the toast. 

While Orgrimmar celebrated the holiday, and the end of the fourth war, and a promising future, Baine sat back to enjoy the atmosphere. It felt so strange compared to the last few years of near constant war and stress. While they were not in the clear, with N’zoth threatening the world, at least they could pause for just this night. 

“Bloodhoof?”

Baine looked over to see Kiro, the leader of the Vulpera, the newest addition to the Horde family. 

Baine dipped his head in greeting. “Friend.”

Kiro smiled, walking over to take a rest beside the large tauren. 

“I must say, it’s refreshing to see you all focused on celebration instead of war.” Kiro commented. 

“So am I.” Baine agreed. “We are all in need of a break.”

“It is good that the entire world can hit pause for the night.” Kiro remarked. “The entire world, all on the same page.”

“A quality I hope to see more of soon.” Baine added. 

Kiro eyed the Turen. “I’ve heard much about the Horde and the Alliance. Do you really believe that lasting peace is possible?”

Baine huffed, unsure whether he wanted to delve into this conversation. With any other council member, he would refuse, however Kiro was still new to the Horde. It would be good to talk of peace in a faction known for war, when Kiro’s take on the Horde could still be riddled with rumors. 

“I’ve considered the Alliance king a friend, I know him quite well.” Baine confessed. Though, since the trial in Pandaria, everyone knew about their meeting in Theramore. Baine and Anduin were very close friends, and pressure from the war was the only reason Baine had to formally “renounce” their friendship. Baine hoped that Anduin saw through it, and meetings over the rebellion against Sylvanas seemed to give him hope. 

“A friend with the enemy, huh?” Kiro smirked. 

“I met him long ago, when he was only a child.” Baine continued. “He preached peace and love, hoping to see the factions come together. A dream I shared.”

“Peace IS the dream, isn’t it?” Kiro nodded.

“You would think.” Baine sighed. Peace would seem like the best path for your people, however their world did not act accordingly. “With the Horde leading as a council, and Anduin leading the Alliance, I have no doubt that peace is inevitable.”

Kiro laughed. “Let’s not jinx it.”

Baine smiled, knocking his hand the wall behind him. It is what they did, right? Knocking on wood?

“I have faith.”

“Good.” Kiro said, pausing. “I will protect my people with my dying breath. That said, I prefer not needing to go so far.”

-...-

The forests surrounding the lands of Gilneas were beautiful, lush, and deep, covered in life despite the distant remnants of blight. Sitting upon a hill, overlooking the ruins of the wall and city, was a wooden cabin. The cabin glowed in warm lighting, covered in snow and Winter Veil lights. 

Sitting back in chairs placed upon the cabin’s front porch, Genn Greymane and Darius Crowely overlooked their old lands. The two, once bitter enemies, now bond over celebration, and drinks. 

“It’s been far too long.” Crowley sighed, gazing into the distance. 

“It has.” Genn agreed. “Though I enjoy Stormwind’s parties, I have been longing to return to Gilneas for a long time.”

“As have I.” Crowley nodded. “No offense to the boy, but there was no better human city than ours.”

Genn grinned, finding the statement relatable, despite the darkness that laid behind it. Humans once ruled so many kingdoms across the land, and now all that was left was Stormwind and Kul Tiras. And, while Genn knew that Gilneas would one day live again, it would no longer truly be a human capital. He and his people wore a curse that would last for a long time. 

“Since we’ve recaptured Lorderan,” Crowley continued. “A rebuilding of Gilneas seems closer now than it ever has.”

He glanced towards Genn. “When do you think we can get Stormwind’s aid in this?”

Genn frowned. “Constant war has drained us all of our resources. I imagine we still may be years away.”

“Has he ever seen Gilneas?” 

Genn paused, then shook his head.

“You should bring him with you someday. Might help secure aid faster.” Crowley said. “What’s a high king if they’ve never visited the lands they help protect?”

“Give him time.” Genn felt a need to speak up for Anduin, even if Crowley’s words weren’t particularly hateful. “He’s only been king for under two years and already has, what, three wars under his belt?”

Crowley huffed. “I do not envy his unfortunate climb to kingship under the attack of the Burning Legion.” 

“Nor do I.” Genn agreed. 

“Three though?” 

“Burning Legion, Slyvanas, and now N’zoth.” 

“Ah.” Crowley nodded and downed some of his drink. “Crazy.”

“Indeed.” Genn said. “But, if he can handle all this i’ve no doubt his fantasy of peace could become reality.”

“You really think so?” Crowley seemed surprised by Genn’s statement. 

“As long as we can get rid of the Banshee.” Genn added. “I think I can work with the Horde as long as I no longer need to face her under the guidance of neutrality.” 

“That boy is rubbing off on you, old wolf.” Crowley commented. 

“Do not mistake my ability to work with them as an admission to enjoying it.” Genn corrected. “The Horde is just as guilty for Teldrassil and Gilneas as Sylvanas, for they let her get away with her actions. The Horde must pay for the life lost. Anduin understands this. That said, I understand that any violent retaliation will be met with similar action.”

“It is a cycle that must be broken.” 

“A cycle I believe the boy can break.”

Crowley seemed unsure of Genn’s words, but considered them anyway.

“Should Stormwind fall to the same fate, do you think he would still hold true to his values?”

Genn thought for a moment, and in truth he wasn’t sure. Anduin loved his city, loved his people, just as any righteous leader would. He worked for peace because, for a kingdom of such short lived people, it was the only path to a future in which humans could properly enjoy their lives. Humans were the shortest lived race, always feeling like if they didn’t act now, nothing would change. Would Anduin seek to take revenge should he lose his home much like Gilneas or Teldrassil? 

Hadn’t Stormwind already fallen to orcs in the past?

“I do not need to wonder, Darius.” Genn answered. “If Varian can rebuild his city from her ashes and come to work alongside the Horde in the end, I see no reason why Anduin wouldn’t do the same.” 

“It took Varian his entire life to come to terms.” Crowley pointed out. 

“Then it should take Anduin seconds.” 

The two sat in silence for some time, the wind picking up, the sound of laughter coming from inside the cabin, Laurna, Tess, and Mia playing board games inside. Crowley took another go at his drink, only to find it near empty. 

“You love that boy, huh?” He turned to look at Genn, who’s gaze was still towards the distant city.

Genn blinked a few times, looking downward. 

“He reminds me of Liam, in many ways.” Genn spoke softly. “The determination, the youth. When Varian died, I saw myself in him, dealing with mourning. He’s yet to get over his father’s death, just as I still have not come to terms with Liam’s.”

“How do you know?” Crowley asked, unable to think back to any signs that Anduin still mourned. 

“Behind closed doors, away from the public, you can see it in him. Sense it.” Genn frowned. “Though, I assume the wolf’s nose helps.” 

Crowley looked down to his empty drink. 

“I suppose there is much I don’t know about the kid.” 

Genn smiled to Crowley. 

“He would enjoy the company, should you ever decide to visit.” he said.

Crowley stood from his chair, turning to head back inside. 

“I may consider it.”

-...-

The Mage District was absolutely flooded in colors, shining festive lights and decorations causing the area to feel like a winter wonderland. As the moon shined overhead, the district was full of Stormwind citizens and allied refugees, taking a break from the fear of the world to celebrate the holidays with food and drinks and games and fun. All doors seemed to be open, the Inns overflowing with visitors. 

Despite the crowded space, the loud music and talking, not a single person seemed to be having a bad time. That said, Tyrande Whisperwind took a breather from the crowd, stepping away from the celebration to take a walk in Stormwind’s park. Even with all the people out and about this night, the Park was eerily empty, allowing the high priestess a chance to be alone. 

She walked slowly down the paths, looking towards the beautiful night sky, and the moon. She sighed, trying her best to ignore her worries for Elune, and for her people. It was a night to forget about war. At least, that’s what she was told. Tyrande never had an easy time just temporarily forgetting something so bothersome as her home’s destruction. 

Still, still, she tried. 

She stopped at the fountain, watching the water, seeing coins covering the bottom. It was a cute tradition, Tyrande thought, and cursed her lack of keeping a coin with her. She instead thought of what she would have wished for. Perhaps a new home for her people. 

As lovely as Stormwind is, she thought back to the celebration, it was not the same. 

Looking towards the Legion Memorial, Tyrande paused to see a small Sin’dorei curled at the stone tomb. 

“What is the Horde doing here?” 

Tyrande turned to see Shandris walk up, her too taking a break from the crowd. Tyrande saw stress rise in the younger elf, so held out her hand to stop her.

“Calm, Shandris.” She said. “This sin’dorei is no enemy. She is the king’s personal guard.” 

Shandris looked confused, and it seemed Tyrande never considered she didn’t know. 

“Why do we let a blood elf oversee the protection of our king?”

“It is a long story, and Sanquinar has never been our enemy. She was a close friend to Varian.” Tyrande explained. 

Shandris noticed Tyrande staring at the memorial. 

“Do you miss King Varian?” Shandris asked. 

Tyrande thought for a moment. There was a lot to consider when deciding if she liked one Wrynn more than the other. 

“Sylvanas would not have burned Teldrassil had Varian still lived.” Tyrande frowned, “But, that is not the young lion’s fault.” 

“You think?” Shandris asked. 

“I know.” Tyrande said with confidence. “The lion son is still young, still finds himself unsure and torn. As would any child feel at the seat of an entire empire.” 

“He...has won this war.” Shandris nodded. The Alliance has won the fourth war. Despite the king’s flaws, he has yet to lose. 

“Yet, peace is not yet among us.” Tyrande added. “We are a long ways away from peace.”

“You think it’s possible though?” 

Tyrande considered her words carefully. 

“Though I often miss the confidence in Varian, and I do not agree with all actions Anduin has taken, there is a potential in him that i’ve yet to observe in any other human king.” 

Shandris was unsure. “What’s different?” 

Tyrande laid eyes again on the sulking blood elf. 

“He extends his hands towards his enemies despite the risk of being bitten.”

“Is that not naivety?” 

“I once thought so, however…” She answered, “He values life beyond his own lands. Placing value in your enemies is the only way to place the foundations for peace.” 

“Had Varian not placed value in the citizens of the Horde?” Shandris asked. “Had Llane not?”

Tyrande shook her head. “Anduin has always been prepared to die for them. He is willing to risk being eaten alive if it means he can tame the feral dogs. I do not see that in his kin.” 

Shandris wasn’t so sure on Tyrande’s words, but it was hard to consider valuing the Horde as a good trait in an Alliance king. Tyrande still held a hatred for the Horde, but the world was tired, and it was hard not to see that retaliation would only continue the cycle of death, after it has happened far too many times. 

“Will the king be joining the celebration?” Shandris asked. 

“I don’t see why he wouldn’t.” Tyrande replied, realizing she hadn’t seen him either. “It is his city, after all.”

Shandris watched from a distance, realizing now that the blood elf was curled against Varian’s empty tomb, hiding her face from them but still clearly in a state of despair. Tyrande watched with slight surprise as Shandris walked across the park, towards Valeera, stopping to stand beside her. 

“I do not think he would want you to spend Winter Veil night in sorrow.” Shandris said, placing a hand on the blood elf’s shoulder. 

Slowly, Valeera peered up, surprised by the night elf’s comfort. Her eyes were red, face stained with tears. Shandris did not know the extent to which this elf knew the Wrynns, but it was clear how much she missed the late king. 

“Join us?”

“Thank you…” Valeera muttered, wiping away her tears as Shandris helped her stand up. 

Shandris walked back over to Tyrande, Valeera following behind. 

“Shall we return to the party?” Tyrande asked, then paused. “Our king has not yet arrived. Would you mind retrieving him from his paperwork?”

Valeera nodded. “I will, High Priestess.”

“HIGH PRIESTESS!”

The trio looked over, a human guard running towards them, frantically, with fear in their eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Tyrande stood a bit straighter as the guard gasped for air.

“K-king Wrynn!” The guard gasped. “He’s dead!”

-...-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking a lot about this story, and while my original intention was that it was a oneshot where it's implied that N'zoth manipulates everyone into forgetting Anduin exists, I wanted to explore many of the problems Anduin presents and seek a different perspective on them. I also wanted to write an alternate ending.


End file.
